The Odds Are Against Us
by YourFaceLooksFunny
Summary: Every Year. One boy, one girl. Taken from their homes, and sent out to be killed.   The 16th Hunger Games have begun, and amongst the tributes are two hopeful 16-year-olds from Three. Xyris and Zeph aren't Careers, but make up for it with their poweful minds. The only problem is, they care about each other too much to let each other go.   Rated T for violence.
1. Prologue

**District 3 is my favourite district. And I wanted to do a Hunger Games that was slightly different. I hope you like it! ~Jodiiee**

The Odds are Against Us

The booming, energetic voice of Caesar Flickerman rang throughout the crowd, raising cheers and whoops from the fickle Capitol audience.

"Welcome, one and all, to the annual 16th Hunger Games!" He shouted merrily, raising an arm up in the air. "It's time for the interviews!"

They were nervous, to say the least. Each tribute dreaded in the back of their minds as to what the future would hold for them, and whether they would be alive this time tomorrow. Even the Career districts, with their sparkling dresses, suits and accessories, had a certain lack of spirit in their voices.

In particular, Xyris Quentin of District 3 was panicking silently as she sat, waiting to take her place on the stage. Her reaping was dramatic to say the least, with her already fragile mother breaking down and tugging at the velvet ropes separating us. She'd had to be restrained by the Peacekeepers, and was nowhere to be seen when the rest of her family visited her before her train ride to the Capitol. The last thing she had heard from her was the hysterical screams that came from the crowd as the nervous girl had made her way to the stage.  
>Then, during the Tribute Parade, Xyris had to wear a headpiece adorned with microchips and wiring, which was uncomfortable and cut into her forehead. Her stylist believed that people must 'suffer for art', although she wasn't the one wearing awkward metallic plates all over her body that made her move in an unnatural, robotic manner. Or maybe that was the desired effect.<br>The training centre was a living nightmare. District 3 was the home of complex machinery and whirring motors, but there were no mechanical or electrical weapons to be found. Even her male counterpart, Zeph, who was quite possibly the most mentally advanced person she had ever met, struggled to find something that could be of any use in the arena. Xyris had never understood why her hometown was excluded from the Career pack, but she finally understood as she stood, shock and horror evident in her features, and watched the six Career tributes wielding swords, spears and tridents with ease. Of course, _their _vocations all included handling dangerous weaponry. All that 3 had to offer was a few coils of wire and a microchip or two.

The District 2 boy's interview was nearly up now. He had been obnoxiously arrogant, and had taken every opportunity to flex those wretched muscled arms of his. Xyris would be up next. Zeph patted her shoulder awkwardly, in an attempt to try and comfort her, but it did little to calm her nerves as he had barely talked to her the entire stay in the Training Centre; he simply sat on the big, luxurious couch with his fingers pressed against his forehead and thought about things. Probably about how to kill her in the arena.  
>Xyris smoothed out the pleats in her sparkling, grey dress and stood up, following the usher's orders to travel up the steps to the stage. The whole backdrop was flickering with bursts of yellow and orange, most likely to match the yellow theme Caesar had chosen to adopt this year. He welcomed the nervous girl onto the deep orange couch and greeted her excitedly.<br>"Hello there!" Flickerman greeted, then trailed off. "...Erm, how exactly is your fascinating name pronounced?" He asked, with humour evident in his voice. The crowd chuckled and Caesar grinned, extending his arm outwards in an invite to speak. Xyris guessed that the whole Capitol had no idea how to say her name. Her escort had pronounced it wrong at the reaping, and she had mumbled this to him whilst still in front of the cameras, after her mother had been dragged away.  
>"Xyris." She replied shakily. "Like saying 'eye', only with a 'Z', and then 'Riss'." Too many times had she recited this sentence in her life, the only difference was that no one was cruelly laughing at her now. Instead, they cheered for some reason. The Capitol was strange.<br>"Xyris! Beautiful!" Caesar gushed, an obvious attempt to ease her out of her nervous demeanour. She smiled slightly and fidgeted in her seat, stroking the pleats of her dress again and looking intently at Caesar's tie.  
>"I must say, Xyris, you are wearing a stunning dress this evening." Flickerman smiled, making the tribute look down at her attire as if she'd forgotten what she wore. Her grey dress seemed to glow in intricate patterns in the stage lights, like a circuit board from back home. The texture was cleverly woven into the silk material in a way that did not show under normal light, but under harsh lighting such as this, it glowed softly like a metallic substance.<br>"Oh, yes, my stylist has worked for our District's tributes for years, so she always has new ideas." She replied, smiling like her mentor had told her to. She had made it clear that the Capitol like their tributes to appreciate the fashions they are draped in, and that a happy stylist is a helpful stylist. '_Anything to get sponsors', _she thought. "I like the patterns, they remind me of home." She added, causing the crowd to react in sympathy, with their 'Awwh's and pitiful looks.  
>"Indeed, I think your stylist has done an excellent job right from the start, with your robotic chariot designs." Caesar encouraged. "I'm sure District 3 is rooting for you, Xyris. So, any plans for the arena?" He asked warmly. Xyris swallowed nervously.<br>"Well, I, erm, I'm just going to try to survive, really." She replied, trying not to blush at the embarrassment of having no idea what to say.  
>"So you're a survival expert, yes?" Flickerman added, the hushed whispers of the crowd anticipating a strategy plan to be revealed.<br>"Well, I don't know about _that, _but I was taught back home to expect everything that _can _happen, _to _happen." Xyris began, taking her mentor's advice once more and telling a story from home. "My father is an inventor, and my mother works in a computer factory, so I've had my fair share of expecting the unexpected!" She ended with a grin, expecting the crowd to laugh. But they didn't. They didn't understand at all. Xryis looked around nervously, not knowing what else to say.  
>"Do tell!" Flickerman smiled, on the same wavelength as Xyris herself. Trying to get the audience on her side.<p>

"I remember once, my father had designed some kind of cleaning device," the tribute continued, remembering the memory clearly. She didn't want to go into too much depth about the complicated invention as it would just confuse the Capitol guests, so she skipped over the details and carried on, "and it went wrong, terribly wrong. His invention started to spew out dust instead of sucking it up, and when my father tried to fix it, he got electrocuted." The crowd gasped, expecting there to be some kind of sob story. "But I was in safety equipment like I always was when I went in his lab, and I could hold the wires without being harmed, so I managed to re-wire the circuiting to send the current to a fuse, where it was supposed to go in the first place. As you could guess, my father was pretty pleased with me." She grinned, trying to win over the audience. The grins and nods from the crowd made confidence rise up inside her, enough to encourage her to give a thumbs up to them, cheerily holding up her right hand and laughing. The citizens loved it, replying the gesture and cheering.

Caesar stood up, inviting Xyris with his hand, which she took with a smile. He held her arm upwards in the air and she curtseyed, knowing how much the Capitol approved of well-mannered tributes. Flickerman twisted her hand around and made her twirl underneath his arm, the patterns on her dress shining like liquid mercury, and the silk pleats swaying outwards like a mechanical wave. She stopped after one rotation and shook the hand that had spun her, and then waved to the audience. Even though she had not spoke much, nor portrayed a personality that usually gets sponsors lining up around the block, they seemed to love her. Cheers, whoops and cries of her name rung around the stage.  
>"Xyris Quentin, everyone!" Caesar cheered, egging on the audience. "It has been an honour meeting you! May the odds be <strong>ever <strong>in your favour!"

Xyris returned to her seat, smoothing her pleats once more.


	2. Chapter 2: Xyris

**Xyris's P.O.V**

To say that the crowd don't understand Zeph is an understatement.

He doesn't say much to Caesar, and sits in such an awkward way, as if he is contemplating jumping up out of his seat at any moment. He doesn't get cheers like me, just a customary applause when he returns back to his seat. Whilst he was talking about a trivial aspect of wiring computers, he kept on looking over at where I was sat. Every time he did, I looked down quickly because I did not want to meet the eyes of a boy who was most likely going to die a terrible death.

Once he returns to his seat, he sighs and raises his fingers back up to his temple. Returning to his thoughts, his forehead crinkled again like it always was.  
>The first time I had met Zeph was not at the reaping, as people from the Capitol always seem to think. We're from the same district, after all, and he went to the same school as me for a while. We're around about the same age, 15, and live in roughly the same area.<br>Zeph was a child genius. He flew through school twice as fast as anyone else, and as a result made little friends. Once he had finished school, with grades unparalleled by any student to be taught there, he was immediately enrolled into the factories as an inventor and repairs technician. And I never really saw him again after that, as he was either working or hidden inside his house, away from people in general. My father had met him a couple times to get advice on his inventions. He said Zeph was a nice boy.

It's a shame the Capitol is going to force him to murder people.

The rest of the interviews are nothing special, unfortunately. After the first couple of interviews, the more interesting Career ones, the audience gets bored and chatters away between themselves. It's sad really. Those outer districts have no chance of getting sponsored.

I don't like the idea of getting to know people that will be trying to kill me this time tomorrow, so instead of paying attention to the tributes being interviewed, my mind wanders back to the previous Games that was aired last year. It was a particularly nasty one according to my father, who has been alive since the Games have begun. The arena was set in what appeared to be a mountainous region, with only saltwater lakes as a water source. The Cornucopia was situated in a steep valley between the two largest mountains, and tributes had to fight each other for the numerous bottles of water placed there that were safe to drink. The only animals that weren't poisonous to eat were the fish swimming in the lakes, so it was no surprise that District 4 won. A girl, a year older than me, 15 at the time, who created fish hooks out of twigs, was the victor.

The two District 3 tributes died on the first day.

Once the interviews are finished, me and Zeph are ushered back onto our floor of the Training Centre, and given words of advice by our excitable escort, Gabriel Tweet.  
>"Now you go out there, and keep your heads held high!" He chirps. "Let's make this Hunger Games a victory for District Three!" And with that, he gives us both crippling hugs and bounds away, leaving me and Zeph alone in the room.<p>

Zeph returns to his place on the couch and sits, staring at the wall in front of him with his brow furrowed. I take a seat next to him, being careful not to get too close. I close my eyes and try not to think about the horrors that await us both tomorrow.

Suddenly, Zeph speaks. I jump slightly as his voice is sharp and precise, and at the fact that he has never spoken to me alone before.

"We should be allies." Is all he says. I turn to face him, expecting him to be staring at the wall still, but instead his eyes are boring into mine with a determined look upon them. I've never seen such focus in someone's eyes, not even when my father is building something.  
>"Um, why's that?" I reply, trying not to make eye contact too long. Something about Zeph and his unlike personality tells me he will die early, despite his brilliant mind. So I don't want to remember much about him because I'll feel guilty, and staring at him will do just the opposite and I'll remember every feature.<br>"Can you handle a weapon?" He asks, a quickness in his voice.  
>"No." I reply, just as curtly.<br>"Well, I work in the factory dealing with metallic substances, and I use hammers to shape them. So if I could find a hammer, it's a long shot, but it'd be an attribute to our alliance." His voice is so hurried; I only manage to hear a couple of words, them being 'factory', 'hammer', and 'attribute'. I nod, since I have no idea how to reply.

Zeph is still looking directly into my eyes, and I look up at his hair to break the eye contact once more. His stylist chose to keep his jet black hair untamed, slightly spiking it upwards to give him a subtle 'mad scientist' look. Or maybe he has just messed it back up, I don't know. All I really know about Zeph's stylist is that she has practically forced him to wear contact lenses whilst in the Capitol, to keep his appearance likeable. She didn't bet on his personality being as odd as it is, I guess. He wants to take his thick, black-rimmed glasses into the arena with him, according to Gabriel, who was up in arms about it. Oh, and _now _I'm looking at his eyes again, noting how they looked bloodshot.

"You should take your contacts out." I suggest, looking down at the pleats on my dress and brushing them with my fingers, feeling the smooth texture against my once-rough skin that the Capitol 'fixed'.  
>Zeph leans forward slightly.<br>"You have the likeability factor. The crowd loved you out there. You're _bound_ to get sponsors." He's speaking in detached sentences now, maybe he's realised I couldn't understand him. His voice sounds lower, like he doesn't want anyone else to hear him. "So I propose that _you _gain us sponsors whilst _I _devise a plan."  
>The way Zeph says this is strange to me. Any other person saying this would sound arrogant and cocky, but coming from his lips, the proposition sounded like the most logical thing ever. Maybe he's been planning <em>this <em>instead of plotting how to kill me. Or maybe he will kill me. I'll have to be wary of him.  
>"Okay," I reply slowly, "I guess it's a good idea. What should we do about the Cornucopia?" I ask, wondering if he was going to send me into the middle of the bloodbath and get me killed by Careers.<br>"Do you really think it's a good idea rushing to look for weapons that you have no idea how to handle?" He replies, his voice without insult. He could almost be calm in the way he speaks, if it weren't for the hurried sense of it all.  
>"No. I thought you'd want to send me into the Bloodbath so I'd get killed." I say, '<em>he might as well know what I think of him' <em>I add in my mind.  
>"Far from it. We should survey the area in the seconds before we can move. If there are any forest areas, run into there and find me. If not, go to concealed areas. Never run into an area where you can be seen." He sounds like he's reciting this, as if he's been drilling it into his own mind.<br>"What if I can't find you?" I reply.  
>"Don't worry;<em> I'll<em> come looking for _you_." He adds, smiling slightly. His eyes seem to sparkle at the pride of his genius plan. "You stay in the same area, and try to camp somewhere where Careers can't find you."  
>"But how will <em>you <em>find me?"  
>"We're both inventors. We'll think of the most genius hiding place." He smiles and holds his thumbs up, <em>just like I did in the arena<em>.

I look down at Zeph's suit. He wears a black shirt, with a black bow tie and pants. His blazer is the same dark shade, but with white down the edges of the lapel and tailored white down the sides. What's the word they use in the Capitol? _Suave._

He's sat rigid and upright, at the edge of the seat. He looks nervous in his body movement, but the warm smile on his face confirms it.

_**Allies.**_


	3. Chapter 3: Zeph

**No one's reviewing. oUo What am I doing wrong? I'd really appreciate a review if you like the story.**

**Zeph's P.O.V**

The trouble with my mind is that thoughts tend to constantly flutter around my head. Usually, back at home in Three, this is a good thing. Leaves me open to new inventions and ideas. But here, in this hell of a place they call the Capitol, my thoughts act against me, making every possible worst scenario to play in my head. A District One tribute ripping off the head of Xyris, a District Four Career sending a trident through my chest, A District Two brute dragging weaker tributes into the shadows.

Some call them nightmares.

I wake up in the bed I've been assigned to in the Training Centre's apartment for District Three, the sun shining through crevices in the elegant silver blinds that lay over the window. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, reaching to my right through the masses of luxurious bedding to find my glasses.  
>Ah, my glasses. I practically had to beg my mentor, a woman named Priya Starlynn, to let me wear them in the arena, even suggesting that I consider them my District token. These glasses and I have been through a lot; all the ideas, all the brilliant designs. And recently, all the tears I've shed when nobody is around. I suspect that our mentor favours my female counterpart in these Games; she practically ignores me in favour for Xyris.<p>

I don't blame her, really. Priya has been forged into a Capitol citizen herself; ever since she won the Games a couple of years ago, she has taken on the look that can only be described as 'Capitol' – with huge, fluttery eyelashes that are permanently dyed red and lips that are always stained a deep scarlet. Of course she favours Xyris – and with her stunning performance and appearance in the interviews, all the fashion-obsessed Capitol citizens will be drooling after her too, which feels somewhat unnerving. The dress she wore was a stroke of genius in its own way; it perfectly encapsulated Xyris's clear intention of wanting to go back home, to her father's shop, with its floor covered in broken microchips and half-built circuit boards.  
>Her stylist must adore her. My stylist is only concerned about whether or not my eyes are bright enough.<p>

I stare up at the ceiling for a good half hour, contemplating my tactics for the Games. I'm pretty sure it's been done before, tributes forming alliances together for a while, except they usually turn against each other when the numbers get lower. That's not what I want at all; Xyris is loved by the audience, and to kill her would mean that I'd die in the hands of some Gamemaker-produced 'accident'. Plus, Xyris can get us sponsors. I realise how awful this sounds, like I'm exploiting her, and I promise to myself that I will return the favour by using my tactical mind to help her survive.

Because, let's face it; Xyris Quentin has absolutely no idea what she is doing.

After explaining my plan to her after the interviews, she opened up to me a bit about what her plan was _going_ to be. She's apparently learnt a few snares during training, and she was going to use them to catch food and, if she was lucky, tributes. She told me that her private session consisted of her building snares, shakily swinging a sword about, and gauntlet jumping, which she surprised herself at being half-decent at. I told her that her agility and snares were good attributes to have, but she'd need some offensive strategy to be able to fend tributes off. Still, she got an eight out of twelve, so maybe she did something else that she didn't want to tell me.

I put on my glasses, bringing the world into a sharp reality, and look over at the clock next to the bed. _6.00_. I sigh, knowing that I won't be able to go back to sleep and face the terrible images I would imagine. I sit up groggily, running a hand through my messy hair and squinting at the over-furnished room I slept in. I slowly roll out of my bed, being careful not to thud too loud and wake any unsuspecting members of our team. I definitely don't want to wake up my stylists; they annoy me _so _much, thinking appearances are taken as highly as life itself.

I get dressed into the most simplistic clothes I can find, in the new automated wardrobes the Training Centre have so proudly installed. I know the inventor of it, he lived close to my house in Three; a wise old man who had originally intended it to be a way of dispensing medicine for doctors in hospitals. But the Capitol didn't want that, so of course he was fired and more new, promising, _Capitol obeying _engineers were hired.  
>So, dressed in a grey t-shirt and combat pants, I tiptoe out of my room and make my way to the large room with a dining table and couch. I stroll across towards the seating, somewhat shakily, and take a moment to remember the room I have spent so many meticulous hours in, trying to come up with a survival plan. The walls are a pale gray, with vertical black stripes pasted onto them in a random fashion. The numerous, luxurious like any other item of this city, couches are scattered across the room, and I pause as it dawns on me that previous tributes will have sat here before, anticipating their death like me. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a habit I possess when I am thinking. They will have sat on these couches, probably spaced as far away as possible, and yet...<p>

Me and Xyris never really did that.

My brain scatters together, piecing recent memories in my head. She's always spaced herself away from me mentally, yes, but that's logical. She won't want to get to know a boy who will either try to kill her or die at her feet. But she used to sit next to me, I'd be able to hear her quick, nervous breaths and see her hands messing with things habitually out of the corner of my eye. That's not like normal tributes.

But I guess, since we are going to be allies, I'd better get used to her company.

I hear footsteps from behind me and turn sharply, anticipating an attack for some reason. But instead, Priya is stood in the doorway, leaning with one hand holding her weight on the frame, smiling sadly.

"So many tributes." She whispers. Her supporting hand clenched slightly, her pristine brow furrowed. But she still smiles. A habit brought on by the cameras.

"We're going to try this year, you know." I reply, trying to sound comforting. _Trying_. Talking isn't my thing.

My mentor laughs slightly, a warm look in her hazel eyes as they met mine.  
>"That's what they all say, you know. Then most of them die in the Bloodbath."<p>

I realise how hard it must be for Priya, watching her students die every year, replaying all the deaths in her mind. If it were me, I'd have given up hope by now.  
>"We're not going into the Bloodbath this year. We're going to be allies." I say nervously, looking down to my shoes. She walks over to me slowly, heels clacking on the floor with each step.<p>

"You take _care_ of her." She suddenly says, her voice urgent yet sad. "You do _everything _in your power to make sure she lives." I look up, realising she's closer to me than I thought, making me jump slightly.

"Even if that means I die?" I ask, feigning stupidity. I want to know why she wants Xyris to win so much.

Priya pauses, her eyelashes fluttering slightly. She nods gravely, looking deep into my eyes, full of... remorse?

"I'm so sorry Zeph, but she is loved. By everyone. You understand, right?" She grins, a plastic smile, her eyes a little too wide, too wild. A small part of me wonders if all of these deaths in her hands are getting to her sanity.

Yet, I nod. Then, I have to apologise and retreat back to my quarters; to hide the tears that shouldn't be forming in my eyes about the fact that I shouldn't agree with my mentor.


	4. Chapter 4: Xyris

**Please review if you can. Nobody has yet. **

**Xyris's P.O.V**

I am woken up by Priya, who sports a long, red dress that tumbles down over her body like a thick liquid is running down it. I realise it resembles blood. _Brilliant, _I think. _Good to know how optimistic she feels, with a death-themed dress and all. _

"Xyris?" She asks, cautiously as she thinks I'm asleep still. "It's time to wake up, dear." She moves across the room and sits at the bottom of my bed, grinning at me with her overly made-up face. I feel sorry for Priya; she's lost all of her District influences. She practically _lives _in the Capitol nowadays, and the way she dresses reflects this. I run my hands across the silken bedding I lay in, feeling the smooth, perfect fabric slip across my fingers.  
>My old bed wasn't this pristine, but it offered warmth and had a cosy feel to it, unlike this one. Unlike this place in general.<br>I sigh, and sit up, looking my mentor straight in the eye.  
>"What time is it?" I whisper, butterflies fluttering around my insides.<br>"It's 8.30," Priya replies, "I want you to have time to prepare."

I get dressed into something comfortable. They almost look like pyjamas. Maybe they are, the voice-operated wardrobe annoys me so I don't bother being specific about what I want from it. I make my way to the dining room, pausing slightly when I reach Zeph's door on the way there. I want to knock on it, and ask him about our alliance, and what it will mean. What will happen if we make it to the final couple of tributes? It's highly unlikely, but it could mean that I'd have to kill Zeph. Well, there are two things wrong with that; One, I can't swing a sword to save my life, literally. Two, I'd have a hell of a lot of guilt on my mind. Also, it'd probably be Zeph killing me; if he finds a hammer then I'm in trouble.  
>I stand outside his door like this for a few minutes, trying to build up the courage to talk to the boy who I will feel guilty about killing. I hear a sniffing noise coming from within the room; he's crying. I can't say I don't blame him; I've had my fair share of tears on this trip to the Capitol. Last night was the worse, when I came to the abrupt realisation that there is no escape. Even hurling myself out of the window won't work, there's no point trying, as a modified force-field simply bounces us back up again instead of frazzling us to death. Those Gamemakers sure are sadistic, not letting us control our own deaths. So I decide to leave my fellow tribute be to spend his last few hours of freedom as he wishes.<p>

I try to eat one of the lavish meals brought to me by those odd Avox waiters. My stomach is still fluttering from nerves though, so I politely turn down seconds. Priya sits opposite me, and I look up from my food to find her watching me with a calculating look in her eyes.  
>"...What?" I ask, slightly unnerved.<br>"Are you teaming up with Zeph?" She asks.  
>"Yes," I reply, fiddling with the many knives and forks adorning the table. "Why?"<br>"You should have told me," She says curtly, "as your mentor I have to assess your strategy and whether it is suitable for-"  
>"-Are you saying I <em>shouldn't <em>team up with him?" I ask, confused as to what she means.  
>"What I'm<em> saying<em> is... that... you should have told me." She flutters her eyelashes; the stress of what the day will bring affecting her somewhat, and breaks eye contact to look down at her meal.

We sit like this in silence for a while, neither of us eating from nerves. Zeph shuffles in eventually, his feet dragging and his brow furrowed in his usual manner. The blotchy redness that could only have come from sobbing has stained his cheeks, and he refuses to look at neither me nor Priya as he takes his seat at the dining table.

I wonder what exactly made my male counterpart cry, but I don't ask. Instead, Priya asks us about our allied strategy.

"Under no circumstances do you leave each other in the arena," Priya advises us, her long manicured nails pointing at us. "Not only will you leave yourself open to attacks from tributes, you'll look unfavourable to the audience."

"Wouldn't want to seem unloved, _would_ we?" Zeph suddenly adds; his voice a little _too_ detached, too bitter. He's looking right into Priya's eyes when I look up, and for the first time since being in the Capitol, I see raw emotion in his eyes. Maybe Priya told him how bad his interview was, and he's not happy about it.

"Not at all." She replies slowly, not pulling away from Zeph's gaze. They're having a stare off, and I can feel the tension in the air, sparking like a defunct lightbulb.

I give a slight cough to try and diffuse the awkwardness, but I just make it worse. _As usual, _I think. _I'm so bad at stuff like this._ I roll my eyes and stand up out of my seat.  
>"Well, I'm going to the balcony to think about how I'm going to survive this thing." I announce, my voice shaky from nerves. I sound so scared. "If you'd like to join me Zeph, feel free." No one's listening to me. So I turn on my heels and scuttle out of the room, onto the huge balcony that lies through a pair of ornate sliding doors.<p>

The training centre's apartments start from a high floor, and lay in order of District; One is at the top of the flats, and Twelve is at the bottom. But still, we all get a good view of the city that will enjoy watching our deaths; they might even laugh or make a joke of it. I get the image of people mocking my thumbs-up I gave at the interview as they watch the screen, my lifeless body hoisted up by the mechanical claw that collects the dead.

My hands rest on the cool railing, and I close my eyes and feel the cool wind caress my face. I imagine that I'm back in Three, sat in the school yard at lunch, trying to assemble some kind of contraption to help my father. The kids stare at me but I'm not bothered, I'm just happy to be helping my family.

I wish I could help them now. They're probably sat at home, trying to calm my mother down who will be beside herself with hysteric worry. I can see my father watching the screen of our old, decrepit television with his palms pressed together, thinking of what the future might hold for his only daughter.  
>"I wish I could go back, too." I hear the voice closer to me than I would have expected, making me jump out of my skin. I turn, and meet Zeph staring back at me, pity in his eyes. A part of me wonders how he knows what I'm thinking, but I dismiss it; he's a smart boy, he's probably been studying me as a potential ally, getting to know that I yearn for my home.<br>"We'll have to win, then!" I reply, cringing at how chipper my voice sounds. "Sorry. I sound like Caesar Flickerman." Zeph smiles, and for a moment his eyes look clear, not clouded by his thoughts. Like for just a moment, we are back at home, making fun of the Games. Then, he is looking back down at the city, thoughts clouding his face again. I wish I'd have talked to him more when we were at school together, we would have been friends. But then I guess that would make this whole situation worse.

He doesn't reply to my joke, so I talk serious again. "How are we going to get around the Careers?"

"Leave it to me." He replies, his eyes clouded in thought again. "You just focus on finding a hiding place. Make sure it's safe, okay?" He's talking to me like I'm a little lost child.

"Got it." I reply, turning to face the balcony edge.

* * *

><p>The next few hours are a blur, until I'm on the hovercraft and I am given a few minutes to get my bearings.<p>

It's nerve racking, as I survey the tributes sat around me, studying their faces and expressions. The Careers look cocky, trying to make stand-offish eye contact with tributes across the seat from them. The lower districts, those in even more poverty than I, look frail and somewhat terrified. One young boy from Ten, he looks about twelve, the youngest age applicable for the Games, is grasping his seatbelt intensely, his eyes darting about nervously. He looks unstable, like he's going to cry at any minute. It's terrible; I want to comfort him, give him a look of sympathy, but I know he won't accept it. He'll think I'll be trying to murder him in mere hours from now.  
>I find Zeph a few seats to my left, leaning forward in his seat as far as he can go. His head is resting on his fists, and he is frowning more than ever. I hope he looks up at me so I can smile or something, make him feel less worried, but I know it won't help.<br>I feel like I can't help anyone. And I can't, just as no one can help me.

The windows begin to darken, and I close my eyes and take a few slow, steady breaths. These last minutes are torturous, according to Priya, as it's when the Career's get pumped and the other tributes get the most scared. Apparently, in Priya's Games, one of the tributes started crying at this point, and the Careers actually targeted him to be the first kill of the show. So no emotions. I keep to myself and hold the seatbelt, wishing I could rip it off and escape. But I can't. So I must try and stay calm, and not bring any attention to myself.

The ride ends, and the tributes are rushed to their individual Launch rooms. Unlike most of the things I've experienced during the Games, this place is the one that's mine, only mine, and will only ever serve this one purpose. Unless of course, tourists come down here to witness the place that Xyris Quentin spent her last moments of freedom, so to speak. I sit on a bench and wait for my stylist, hoping that they get here before I have to leave. I look at the furnishing; it's so different to the Capitol and District Three alike. The place is almost sterile in its looks; like a hospital. The bench I am seated on is cool and metallic, and isn't built with image or practicality in mind. There is a locker that serves no purpose in the corner, yet looks hideous. And the whole room is painted a dark blue, every single item of furniture matching the walls, ceiling and floor. And nothing looks cosy.

My stylist bursts into the room, holding a package containing the uniform of the arena. He sits next to me and opens it, studying the material in his hands.

"The material suggests that it will be cool." He murmurs, holding up a grey-green hooded jacket that looks insulated. "The shoes suggest water, or rain conditions, they're water insulated, so expect storms. Also, the undershirt is thin material, suggesting warm weather. Hmm." He passes me the clothes, thinking hard about what the arena will be. _Trying to help me._ I notice the undershirt is the exact same shade as the room, so maybe each District has a different colour.

I get dressed into the outfit, feeling the material against my skin. The shoes are comfortable, the clothes a perfect fit. "The weather conditions could change over the days. They've prepared for everything. You should too." He helps me with my jacket, and ties my hair up into a ponytail. Practical, and yet he leaves small curls hang down the side of my face. Like in the interviews. I thank him for his help.

"Thank you so much." Is all I can say.

"You're welcome." He doesn't say much after that, I just survey him. I thought my stylist was a fickle guy who cares only about appearance, with his long, bright green hair and eccentric taste in clothes. But he's in fact an expert on clothing, which is extremely helpful, as it were. I realise I don't know his name, which makes my stomach drop even more.

"W-what's your n-"

That's when I hear it. The woman on the speakers calls for my name to prepare for Launch. My stylist stands up and offers me his hand. I take it, and he hoists me up.

"Don't forget your token." He says, handing me the one little bit of Three I decided to bring along with me.

It's not much, but was a gift from my father. A necklace, on a simple metal chain, with a large-sized microchip as the pendant. He's made it himself, from scraps from his shop that he could have used for inventions. The chip has an engraving on one side, which says _'Expect the Unexpected'_. I clasp it around my neck and kiss the microchip, thinking of home and how nervous they must all be there.

He walks me to the pod that will send me up into the Arena. I think of all the tributes that have been in this predicament; I can finally understand why so many die in the Bloodbath. They're nervous, beyond being able to move. I wonder if I'll survive the next few minutes.

"Good luck, Xyris Quentin." My stylist speaks, shaking hands with me. He sounds... Proud of me.

My mouth gapes open, and he closes it for me by pushing my chin up gently.

"The name's Fenton." He adds, before stepping back. I go to say 'thank you', but a glass cylinder encapsulates me, blocking out the world. I can only see Fenton holding two thumbs up, in the gesture I had made famous. I reply it, only I can't bring myself to smile.

The Launch Pod lifts me up, quicker than I imagined, and for a moment I'm blinded. Then, I see the bright, gleaming shell that can only be the Cornucopia. I see thick, marshy land surrounding the horn, along with its bounty; tonnes and tonnes of weapons. It would be slow and difficult to try and plod through the marshes to get to it. Surrounding the outside of the launch pads that form a circle are survival supplies; So on the inside of the circle of tributes are weapons and on the outside is survival gear. I spot a kit bag not too far from my podium, and know what I must do after the countdown. There's a forest behind us, I must follow Zeph's advice.

I dare not position myself to face away from the Cornucopia, for fear of being blasted to smithereens. Instead, as Claudius Templesmith booms,  
><strong>"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Sixteenth Hunger Games begin!"<br>**, and begins the countdown of sixty seconds, I survey the arena and the tributes. Luckily, I am not near any Careers, so an escape wouldn't be completely impossible. A District Five girl is to my left, and a District Eight boy to my right, so I could try and evade their attacks if they choose to have a go at me.

_Fifty two, fifty one..._

I spot Zeph directly opposite me; I can just make out his crazy hair and thick glasses. I notice we're wearing the same colour undershirt, and I look next to me to see the District Five shirt of bright yellow, and notice that Zeph is next to the male tribute too. So each District is separated from their other tribute, and I'm planning to run behind me, furthering the distance between us. Great. I was hoping he'd be nearer to me so we could escape together.

_Forty nine, forty eight..._

I can just about make out Zeph's head, nodding at me discreetly. He must have seen me turn around and see the bag and the forest, and I notice his legs are braced, ready to come hurtling over to me. _That's dangerous _I mouth to him, but I don't think he can see my face as well as I can. He must have seen the swamp, and what it will do to him as he enters it.

_Thirty seven, thirty six..._

I spot the District Two male, the arrogant one, flexing his arm muscles and grinning at his female counterpart on the opposite side, who looks just as bulked up as him. I grimace slightly as I realise that I'm quite short in comparison to most of the tributes. This is ridiculous.

_Twenty eight, twenty seven..._

The arena looks to be well – weathered, considering the marshes. Maybe Fenton is right, and the weather will change. I see the forestry, and how thin it looks when you get past the thick evergreens marking the entrance to it. I'll have to be careful of how I hide there. I notice that the opposite side houses a mountainous area, and I hope that this isn't a repeat of last year, with no safe water.

_Thirteen, twelve..._

I feel like screaming. I'm so scared. I'm most certainly going to die here. I position my feet carefully, ever so slightly rotating them, so I'll be able to set off easier.

_Ten._

My body tenses. This is it.

_Nine._

I think of my family, and how they must be watching my face on a giant screen in Three.

_Eight._

I see Zeph's body curl with tension, anticipating the Bloodbath as much as I am.

_Seven._

One tribute laughs manically, probably a Career.

_Six._

I feel my necklace with my fingers and nod, hoping my father sees me expecting the unexpected.

_Five._

I look up to the sky, wanting to snarl at the cameras that hide up there.

_Four._

My eyes lock onto the small bag I am aiming to reach.

_Three._

I'm going to die.

_Two._

I refuse to die.

_One._

**Just try and stop me.**

_**ZERO.**_

I lunge off my podium, the wind whipping my fringe back off my head.


	5. Chapter 5: Zeph

**Meh. Let me know what you think!**

**Zeph's P.O.V**

The Gamemakers have put us at opposite sides. There's no way I'll reach her now, as she hurtles towards the forest with a survival kit in her hands. She's done the right thing, no doubt; with supplies and a head start from the Careers. But I can't help feeling a bit hurt that she didn't even consider waiting for me.  
><em>You told her to run. <em>I think, as I sprint around the empty podiums and towards the forest. _Besides, you're just allies, and she trusts that you'll find her. _

I'll admit now, that maybe this wasn't the best of my plans. If her hiding place is_ really_ good, I won't be able to find her, even if we _do _have the minds of inventors.  
>I look towards the Cornucopia as I run around the circle of podiums, avoiding the thick marsh that would slow me and hoping nobody notices me. I see the two District Ones, with their District Number stamped onto their jackets in white, meeting at the golden horn and picking weapons, as the District Four and Two girls flank them. I see tributes everywhere, running. Some towards the mountains, checking behind them with terrified expressions, and some towards the forest, scrambling to pick up supplies as they go.<p>

A girl with '6' on her back runs towards the Cornucopia with a knife in her hand. She has a fierce expression as she flings it towards the Careers. My eyes widen, not expecting a member of Six to be so... Brutal. The weapon embeds itself into the girl from Four's leg, and I hear her scream in pain. But I'm looking away now. I need to get out of here.

Out of nowhere, the District Two boy tackles me to the ground, knocking the air out of my body. My head hits the muddy floor and my glasses are nearly knocked off my face. I try to kick him away, but he has a firm grip on both my arms and a smug grin on his face.  
>"What's up, nerd?" He asks, his voice thick with malice. "I noticed you got a nine in training. How'd you manage that?" He practically shouts.<br>It's true, I got a nine. But it's not like I earned it, in fact, I'm pretty sure I got it because my interview was so dreadful and, as I'm from a higher District, I need to look like I'm good at _something. _All I'd done in training was pick up a mace, as it was the closest thing I could find to a sledgehammer, and swung it around a bit.  
>"Literally no idea," I reply, trying not to make my voice sound as terrified as I feel. I'm going to die here. He's going to kill me. "I-I used a mace." Was I even supposed to say that? Isn't it against the rules?<p>

"Come with me, nerd." He hoists me up roughly, making me lose my balance. I'm still winded from his attack, and that combined with the fear of a Career turning on me is making me a little unstable.  
>I follow him to the Cornucopia, trying not to lose my shoes in the marshes. Nobody comes to attack us, but of course; I'm with the guy who everyone is scared of. I see the District Four male leaping from tribute to tribute in the clearing, his face elated, throwing and stabbing a trident at each one. I see three people die.<p>

_I do _not_ want to be here,_ I panic. _Why am I becoming a Career?_

When we reach the Cornucopia, I notice the circle of ground around it is normal and grassy, which is a relief as I am beginning to struggle in the mud. The District Ones approach me just as warily as I would to them. The girl spits,  
>"Why is a District <em>Three <em>here?" Her eyes narrow as she glares into my eyes. I try to stare her off, but her _ridiculously_ long, perfectly straight, platinum blonde hair puts me off. It's like a mirror reflecting the sunlight and it hurts my eyes a bit.  
>"Nerd got a nine in training," the District Two boy replies. I hope the name 'Nerd' doesn't stick. I've been called that quite a lot in my life and it's rather tedious. He just misses me rolling my eyes, as he turns to face me with a grin on his face. "So, Brains, pick your weapon." He points to the Cornucopia and I oblige, walking into the golden horn and keeping my body tense in case of an attack.<p>

There is so much stuff packed into the Cornucopia. On one side, there are supplies like tents, containers of food and medical kits. I grab a box with a green cross on it and check what is inside; bandages, antibiotics and painkillers. I find a large backpack with food and water inside it, and stuff the medic kit inside. The Careers are all stood outside the horn now, as the District Four boy has joined the team to attend to his female counterpart, who is sat on the floor with a knife deep in her left thigh, trying not to cry. The girl from Six who caused the injury is nowhere to be seen. They are all chattering away as if it's just another day for them. Bodies are strewn all over the clearing. I look back towards the inside of the horn.

The weapons look like what are usually in the Games; swords, spears, and maces. I pick up a sword and slip it through my belt; for Xyris. If she wants a weapon, I'm guessing the one she picked in training would be the best option. I look for some knives for practical use, but all I can find are throwing knives that are purely designed to be aerodynamic. I take one, as I might need to cut myself out of a trap or something later on.  
>That's when I notice it. A hammer. At first I think that I've gone mad, <em>there were no hammers in training,<em> so I scurry over to its place on the wall, picking it up out and feeling the weight of it in my hands. Not too heavier than the ones I use in the factories back home. It has a longer handle though, and the head is a lot larger, and made out of steel, but it's _real_. I loop my arms through both handles of my backpack, and saunter out to the Careers, feeling rather deadly. District Two laughs at me.

"You look proud." The District Two girl laughs. She walks over to me and extends her arm in greeting. I take it warily, expecting her to pull me into some kind of wrestling move. But she just shakes it firmly, with a lot of strength that nearly makes my arm yank out of its socket. "I'm Kellie," She says, pulling her hand back. "This is Warrick," She points at District Two, and he raises an eyebrow, flexing his arm muscles again for some reason. He's trying to intimidate me, but it's not working now because I have my weapon of choice and I'm feeling awfully lucky.

"I'm Zeph." Is all I reply. I don't want to stay with these people long, and my mind is already trying to formulate a plan to escape. As the rest of the Careers tell me their insignificant names, I debate just trying to kill them all right here. But I'm outnumbered, and they all look stronger than me, especially Warrick and Kellie.  
>I could just try running, but I'm weighted down by my supplies and weapons so I'd be too slow. I guess I'll just have to bide my time until the coast is clear and I can make a run for it.<p>

"Okay, let's move!" The boy from One shouts, pointing towards the mountains. _Oh crap, _I think. _I'm not going to be able to find Xyris at this rate._ "The cannons haven't fired yet."

"Sol is right." Kellie adds, collecting her belongings, "We should get out of here."

And within a couple of minutes, the Careers are off, walking towards the ominous mountains that cast shadows over the land below. I begin to follow, but hear a commotion from behind me.

"I-I can't Kai... My leg..." The District Four girl pleads with her fellow tribute from Four. I turn around, and see him leant over her, looking at the blood that is seeping from the knife that is still stuck in her leg.

"I don't know what to do Brooke, I'm sorry. I have to go." He turns to walk away, but Brooke grabs his arm, trying to pull herself up, and begins to sob, desperation in her eyes.

"N-no, Kai, d-don't leave me..." She can barely speak through her tears. I stay frozen to the spot I am stood on, trying not to gawk at the scene unfurling before me.

"Brooke, your leg. It's not going to heal. Pull it out and try to keep bandaged." Kai replies, with no emotion in his voice. He points half-heartedly at the knife in her thigh and turns, muttering a swift "Goodbye" and picking up his trident as he walks away. He storms past me and spits "You coming, Brains?" To which I reply, a little too bitterly,

"I'll catch up." I brush him aside and walk towards Brooke, who has crumpled into a heap on the floor in tears. When she notices me coming, she tries to wipe her tears away, putting on a Career bravado. But her expression, and the way she is curled around the wound on her leg, gives her pain away. I kneel down beside her and look at the wound, being careful not to touch it.

"It hurts." Is all Brooke can say. I look up at her face and try to judge her age; she looks about fourteen. The idea of leaving her behind, even with a Career status, would spell the end for her. And even though she's the enemy, and would no doubt be aiming that trident placed next to her at my chest under normal circumstances, I don't want to leave her behind. Maybe I'm just not cut out for all this killing business.

"Can you move your toes?" I ask, assessing how bad the damage is. Luckily, she can, so no nerve damage has been done. The knife isn't submerged in her leg all the way to the handle, so hopefully the wound isn't as deep to have cut an artery. I reach forward to pull the knife out, and I hear the girl squeal.

"No! It'll hurt." She cries, a fresh stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. I open up my bag and search for the medical kit. I dig out the packet of painkillers and a bandage, and pass her a capsule of the drug.

"Take this, it'll make it hurt less."

"I _know _what painkillers do. I'm not stupid!" She practically shouts, her voice choking with sobs. I look around at the clearing in panic, expecting tributes to swarm out at us with weapons raised.

"Sssh!" I hiss at her. If she wants to talk to me like dirt, then I'll do the same. "I'm trying to help you. Do you want me to help your leg, or do you want me to leave like Kai did?" I nod my head to the mountains, where the Careers have disappeared. Brooke shakes her head slowly, and swallows the painkiller. I lift up her leg slowly, to prepare the bandage, and her face contorts in pain. "I'm going to pull the knife out slowly, Brooke, so that I don't add too much to the damage. Then I'll wrap the bandage around tightly so that the bleeding stops." I'm not telling her this for her own benefit; I'm reciting First Aid pamphlets and booklets I had to study before taking my Safety in the Factory exam at school. Since there have been multiple accidents at the engineering factories involving large, sharp sheets of metal, the kids are now taught how to deal with it.

Pulling the knife out is dangerous, I know. There's a risk of severing an artery, but since the knife doesn't look too deep, I have a shot at pulling it out. After all, Brooke won't be able to walk with a knife sticking out of her and if all else fails, I'll tourniquet it.

The knife makes a sickening noise as it pulls out of the wound, and I have to try not to retch at the blood that oozes from the cut. I toss the knife aside and focus on bandaging as soon as possible, applying pressure as I go. Once the long bandage has been fully wound up, I look back up at Brooke's face. She's been crying more, the tears are literally pouring from her eyes. But she smiles for some reason.

"T-Thank you." She stutters, looking down at the bandage. "We should go." She tries to stand, but can't put weight on her injured leg. I put her arm around my shoulder and hoist her up, pushing my glasses from its place on the edge of my nose, where it slips to when I am inspecting something closely. Brooke is light, and it is easy to carry her weight, and yet when I turn to the mountains she manages to stop me from moving her.

"No." Is all she says.

"But the Careers went that way." I reply unblinkingly. My plan was that I'd take Brooke to her Careers and work on escaping from there. But the defiance in her voice confuses me.

"I don't _want _to camp with a bunch of people who wanted to leave me here to **die.**" She leers at the mountain area and hobbles towards the forest.

"Very well." I tell her. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"I knew it!" She suddenly grins, her change in emotion shocking me slightly. "I knew you weren't going to stay with us!" She laughs and I have to hush her again, for fear of being discovered.

"I'm going to look for the girl from Three," I inform Brooke, pointing towards the forest with my hammer. "We're supposed to be allies."

"So... you're going to leave me too?" We're walking again now, slowly trudging through the marshes. She's not crying again, but I sense the hurt in her voice.

"No, you're a valuable asset," I tell her, smiling slightly at my luck so far. "Not only are you a Career, you're probably very handy with that trident." I nod down at the steel weapon she holds so confidently in her free hand. She grins again, slightly cockily, and chirps,

"My father was a fisherman, and he taught the kids how to use tridents as weapons." Ah, of course. District Four are trained for the Games. It's supposedly illegal, but _somehow _the Career districts get away with it.

"I see. Well, it's nice to have you on the team." We stop, and look up at the thick, green trees that loom above us. Brooke snorts and points past the evergreens with her trident.

"The trees are thin beyond these trees," she observes, and I crane my neck to get a look myself. And she's right; the forest is a _lot _thinner beyond the initial tall trees that we stand before.

"Okay. So this is good and bad." I assess, my mind ticking over with the possibilities. "Good, in that we can see tributes that are trying to attack. Bad, in that tributes can see us."

"Okay, Brains, whatever." Brooke laughs, urging us onwards with a stubborn hobble towards the forest.

And so, we walk for a while, using a compass that Brooke picked up from the Cornucopia to keep us on a straight line West. "That way, we'll be able to find our way back to the clearing." She tells me as she whips it out from her coat pocket, running her thumb over the shiny face.

A few metres in, the firing of the cannons begin. It'd make me jump if I hadn't have been anticipating it for the past how-many-minutes. I halt, to count the dead.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

Brooke raises her eyebrows. "What?" She asks, looking around and raising her eyebrows.

"Ten?" I ask her, shaking my head. Ten people were already dead. Some probably killed by her.

"Ten? Oh, right, cannons. Yeah, Kai and Warrick got most of them. Me and Kellie just kept the backs of the District Ones safe. Their orders, of course. They think they're the king and queen of the Careers." She snorts again and I look away, slightly horrified at how she can be so casual about killing people. I guess, if it comes to it, in order to survive, I'll kill someone. But not just willy-nilly like the Careers do. They kill like it's some kind of _sport._ "You okay, Brains?" Brooke asks, staring at me with some form of mild care in her eyes. I look down at her leg, and notice the blood beginning to seep through the bandages. I look back up at the girl, and the paleness of her once-tanned face confirms it.

"We need to stop and rest your leg." I walk Brooke over to a log and seat her on it, much to her distaste.

"My leg is just _fine_." She stubbornly protests. But I notice the slight wince as she sits down.

"You're in pain. I can tell." I reply curtly, looking around for somewhere to pitch the tent that Brooke has on her back. "We should set up a camp until the morning."

"Don't you want to go look for water or food?" Brooke asks, and I mull over it for a second before shaking my head.

"No, we have plenty of food and drink each, which we can ration." I find a nice little spot of land that doesn't look too out-in-the-open, and begin to set up the camouflaged tent. I stand back once the task, which by the way was a _lot _harder than it appeared to be, was done, and nodded in approval.

I never thought I'd see the day when a tribute from Three, especially one as rubbish as me, would have resources from the Cornucopia at hand, and a District Four, albeit an injured one, as an ally.

We inspect our kits and eat a few crackers, Brooke a considerable amount more than me. I tell her that we should eat as little as possible, so that the food lasts longer, and she does her little snorty-laugh of disapproval. _Oh well, _I think to myself, _at least she can hit a target with a deadly weapon. _But then I stop thinking tactically about a fourteen-year-old girl and her prowess with a trident, as it unnerves me that I am beginning to think of humans, well, _children_, as pawns. I shake my head and clamber into the sleeping bag that was so neatly folded into one corner of my backpack that I'd almost overlooked it. It's really thin, and doesn't do much to stop cold getting in, but at least I have _something. _I think of all the tributes out here tonight that don't have much to survive with, and how they will cope. The thought shouldn't sadden me as much as it does.

As if on cue, the loud jingle of Panem plays across the arena. I hear Brooke, who is sat outside keeping guard, squeal in shock, and I laugh quietly as I join her outside to see who has lost their lives today.

Just the ten dead from the Bloodbath tonight. I hold my breath, dreading to see Xyris up in the sky. But the first face is the girl from District 5, and I almost sigh, before realising how cruel that would make me. The boy from 5 appears too, and I think of their District back at their home, how they'll be reacting. The only time I can remember both the tributes from Three dying in the Bloodbath is from two years ago, and those who were gathered around the gargantuan screen in the city square just emitted a united sigh, and looked solemnly at the families who wept at the side of the stage. The District Three escort, Gabriel Tweet, just shrugged in an overly-enthusiastic fashion and chirped 'Oh well, better luck next time I guess!' I swear, one of the mothers that year nearly went for his jugular, and if it weren't for the Peacekeepers I guarantee she would have killed him.

Both the tributes from Seven are dead too. I'm not surprised the Bloodbath skipped Six this year. The boy from Eight, with bright red hair, and the girl from Nine are also gone, and I wonder which of the Careers killed them. Maybe they don't even know themselves, as they were just so caught up in the _fun _of it that they didn't even notice. A little boy from Ten makes the seventh dead tribute, and judging from his picture he looks very young, maybe even twelve. Both tributes from Eleven are dead, which surprises me as they look about seventeen, maybe even eighteen in their photographs. The girl from Twelve makes the last of the dead. I'm surprised the boy is still alive, from what I saw he is very scrawny, and probably from the poorest of the poor. I once saw him eating at lunch time. He _wolfed _down food.

Brooke speaks first after the seal of Panem in finished flashing across the sky.

"Do you want me to keep guard tonight?" Her hand holds up her weapon and it glints in the now-strong moonlight.

"No." I reply. "You need rest. Your leg and all. Go to sleep." I wave towards the inside of the tent and huddle into my sleeping bag some more.

"You sure, Brains?" Brooke replies, grinning. "No offense, but you couldn't kill a duck, even if it walked into that hammer of yours."

"And _you_ wouldn't be able to walk back to here from the Cornucopia if I took you there and left you. Goodnight." And with that, I zip up the tent before she can retort.

**Tempted to do a P.O.V of the Capitol audience watching the Games. Good idea or bad?**


	6. Chapter 6: Xyris

**So, not long before the film coming out now! I might be really sad, and take my district pass thing to the cinema. CHALLENGE: Guess what District I'm in. Tom already knows. :P  
>ALSO I WENT TO THE EUROPEAN PREMIERE IN LONDON AND IT WAS AMAZING :D<strong>

The Seal of Panem flashes across the screen majestically, and fades in to reveal the garish studio in which Caesar Flickerman, Claudius Templesmith and the Head Gamemaker, Caspar Ratchford, are sat on luxurious couches and drinking from small glasses of what can only be alcohol. Caesar wears his golden suit, identical to that of which he wore to interview the tributes, only this time his face is stencilled with intricate, bright orange swirled patterns that is a recently adopted fashion of the Capitol. Templesmith, the legendary announcer of the Games, looks rather intoxicated from the drink he is grasping in his fist, and his eyes are lolling around the studio slowly with a fixated grin on his face. Caspar Ratchford, the new Gamemaker that has promised, just like every other man in his position, to bring '_surprise and shocking twists this year_', has done away with the long, scarlet robes the Gamemakers wear, and is donning a trim, deep blue suit with a sapphire bejewelled lapel and matching encrusted undershirt.  
>Flickerman turns to look into the camera, flashing his signature grin.<p>

"The first night of the Games has begun, with eleven sacrifices made. It's been an eventful day, no doubt! Caspar, what do you think?" He turns to face the Gamemaker, taking a sip from his glass.

"Well Caesar," Ratchford replies, his Capitol accent filled with tension and stress, despite his serene expression. "I think the Bloodbath was quite the interesting spectacle." He nods and leans back in his seat, delicately taking a sip of the liquid in his glass.

"Indeed!" Caesar bursts, "I never thought I'd see the day when a _District Six_ would injure one of the Career tributes!"

"To be fair," Claudius Templesmith slurs, his voice sounding just as powerful as ever despite his condition, "that District Four girl didn't exactly seem like the most ferocious of the bunch." He hiccups and takes another glug of his drink.

"I wouldn't doubt her ferocity," Caspar replies, "She could easily take down this new ally of hers."

"Ah, yes!" Caesar grins. "I was just getting around to that! The boy from Three... ah... what's his name again?" The audience, hidden behind the cameras, cackle. Nobody remembers his name because he was the boy who had the terrible audition.

"Whatever his name is," Templesmith replies, "He's doomed allying with a Career." He chuckles to himself and looks to Caspar for his reaction. "Well, Caspar? Is he doomed?"  
>To the audience, this is an exciting question, as it could give clues as to what the Gamemakers have in store for this somewhat unlikeable young man. The breaths of hundreds of spectators are sucked in, in anticipation.<p>

"Hmm." Is all Ratchford replies. The crowd mutters to themselves.

Caesar tries to rein back the conversation.  
>"There were many spectacular deaths today, were they not?" He looks towards the screen behind them, replaying various death sequences that proved interesting in the Capitol's eyes.<p>

The girl from Seven's demise plays first. The boy from Four rams a trident into her chest, but she hangs on, despite the blood oozing from her chest and mouth. She looks up into the eyes of her attacker, and shakes the trident's handle erratically, trying to shake him away from his weapon so that it is taken with her when she dies. But she doesn't realise that, when she is gone from the world and the boy regains his balance, she isn't collected. Because, hey, this is the Bloodbath and there is more killing to be done. The Career yanks his weapon from her body and sprints away, leaving her lying in the marshes.  
>Then, the clip of the girl from Twelve plays. She tries to run from the boy from Two, picking up a knife as she goes. He soon is on her tail and grabs her legs, pulling her to the floor with a loud thud. She screams wildly and claws at him with her knife and nails, but he dodges every swipe and wrenches the weapon from her hands with a smug grin. Two minutes later, she's splayed across the grassy floor with that very knife protruding from her heart.<p>

"So, currently, we have 14 tributes in the arena." Flickerman states to the audience. "There are three allegiances so far, with the Careers making the largest with their five members. Do you think there will be any more members disbanding? Or any more allegiances made?" He turns to his guests. Claudius snorts and mumbles some incoherent answer, taking the last swig of his beverage. Caspar sits up a little in his seat an addresses the audience.  
>"I think that allies will be created and lost. You'll have to keep watching to see just how that happens." He smiles slightly and takes a drink.<p>

Caesar turns to the camera.  
>"Well, citizens, that's all for this episode of the Hunger Games – Review! Tune in tomorrow for more interesting clips and interviews with Gamemakers, stylists and more! May the odds be <em><strong>ever <strong>_in your favour!"

The seal of Panem flashes again, and the screen fades to black.

* * *

><p><strong>Xyris's P.O.V <strong>

Darkness is beginning to settle, and I must find a shelter, and fast.

Ever since running into this forest, I've been trying to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible. I haven't even checked my survival kit yet, I just hope I have some food or water in it so I don't have to hunt at night.  
>I trudge through the bracken on the floor, my eyes darting about and trying to calculate somewhere out of sight. A dull ache is beginning to form in the centre of my feet, and I can feel the heaviness of my eyelids caused from a day of stress. I think back to earlier on in the day, when the cannons fired to signal the end of the bloodbath, and I nearly fell over in shock. That is nothing compared to the tension I feel now in my temple<br>I shuffle into a clearing, and I instinctively stop and look around meticulously for predators or tributes. When I'm sure to myself that nobody is around, I scour the area for a place to hide.

I notice a large tree that seems to loom tallest of the bunch that surrounds it. Its base is huge, and sits on one of the roots that extend up from the ground. I notice that the underside of the tree, the bit that _should _have roots that dig into the ground, is empty, and dug out underneath. Curious, I look through the foliage, expecting some kind of animal to jump out and attack me. But to my surprise, and excitement, I see that it is empty, and looks sturdy enough not to crush a person who lay underneath. And to add to my luck, the opening to the underside is concealed to tributes by bushes, so I could lie under there for the night and not be found.

I nearly squeal in happiness, and awkwardly shuffle, lying on my stomach, underneath the tree. The base of the tree is large, so I won't need to curl up, and also lets in enough of the dimming light for me to see my backpack. I unzip the kit as quiet as I can, and look at the contents.

I have a small blanket, rolled up inside the bag, and a bottle that is full to the brim with cool, almost irresistible water. A packet of crackers and biscuits, and a torch lay at the bottom of the bag, as well as a penknife and a small bottle of what appears to be iodine. I bring out the torch and switch it on, before being blinded by the strong light that filters out. I squint, and hastily press the 'off' button; hoping that no one saw my light and will come looking for me.

And that is when I hear the infuriatingly upbeat tune that signals the broadcasting of the dead for today. I look up through the bushes, my fingers crossed in hope of not seeing Zeph's face in the clouds. It's funny really, I hadn't even thought about my fellow tribute since we launched this morning, and now I feel almost sick at the thought of him being dead.  
>Luckily for us, however, the first tribute to be named is from Five, and I sigh in relief. But that means that all of the Careers are still out there, which poses a threat. I watch the images of tributes flash by, and I'm glad I didn't pay attention to them in the interviews or training, or it would be even harder for me to deal with. Even imagining Zeph, who I barely spoke to before the Games and barely spoke to <em>during <em>as well, as a dead tribute makes my stomach churn in guilt.

It is as the seal of Panem flashes away, that I realise that none of the cameras will be able to see me from my little hidey-hole. Meaning I get a little bit of time to myself. I grin as I snuggle into my blanket, and I let my mind wander somewhat. Of course, my mind wanders to the place I didn't want it to roam, back home, and the smile slowly erases itself from my face. I think about my mother, who will surely have to be held back by my father, if not Peacekeepers, whilst watching the large screen they use to project this whole ordeal to Three. My parents must have been beside themselves during the bloodbath, as the way the Capitol plays it to each district is different, they edit the clips to make it seem like _their _tributes are in trouble. As in, although I had no problems escaping into the forest, they probably cut a clip of me running to a clip of a Career running, making it look like they are chasing me. Basically, The Capitol puts families through hell just for their enjoyment. There's something terrible about that.

As I drift off, I imagine that I'm in my father's shop, helping him build something ridiculously complicated. The light is shining in rays through the blinds he keeps halfway closed at the window. The smell of plastic and metal, the smell that is home to me, lingers in the air, and the feel of cool metal running through my fingers is as just as cosy to me as a teddy bear. Various images flash through my mind throughout my dreams; my father's smiling face, the hum of a machine whirring to life, the view from my bedroom of the gray, monotonous place I call home, the grins of people from Three welcoming me home-

The dreams twist.

I begin to see Zeph's face everywhere- frowning in his usual fashion, grinning with an evil glint in his eyes, sobbing, crying out in pain. Blood on my hands. I see tributes dying; stabbed, beheaded, cut, beaten. My family sobbing at the coffin that arrives at their door. Screams everywhere.

I wake up with a gasp as the cannon jolts me out of fantasy and brings me into an even harsher reality.

For a moment I am scrambling about, checking myself for wounds, somehow thinking that it was _my _cannon firing. When the panic is over and I realise that I am, in fact, not dead, my senses return to me and I can hear footsteps. Close.

I peer out from my hiding place, searching for the tribute that nears. Part of my mind hopes that it is Zeph, and that it wasn't his cannon that fired, but another part of me doesn't really want to face him after all the nightmares I'd just endured. About his death and such.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of staying as still as a statue, I see a pair of feet walk past. They look fairly big, a boy's probably but I can't see past the knees. The feet are limping, and I can see blood tricking down the right leg. I almost get up and try to help the tribute, but I stop myself.  
><em>This is the Hunger Games, <em>I think to myself. _You're not at home. These aren't your friends. They will kill you._

* * *

><p>An hour or so later, and I'm sat beside a burned-out fire, not mine but of a tribute long since gone, and tucking into a few crackers from my survival kit. Thirst is starting to get the better of me, and my water bottle is half empty now. I chuckle slightly to myself, remembering the old phrase my mother used to say. <em>'Is it half empty, or half full?'<em> Definitely half empty.

I look up to the sky, and see the Sun directly over my head, signalling that it is mid day. It is warm, and the air is annoyingly humid, causing me to remove my jacket and tie it around my waist like people from Three do in summer. Only it's not summer. It's autumn, so the air should be cool, even cold depending on where the arena has been built this year. And that's when I realise that this stupid humidity has been created by the Gamemakers, and I feel like screaming because it is so irritating.

I'd carefully planned my way through the forest prior, making sure I could find my way back to the tree as it is a good place to hide out. However, I'd also been careful to cover my tracks so that no Careers were on my heels, so getting back should be a feat in itself. I'd initially intended to search the arena for food or drink, but soon realised that it was impossible as proved by my ludicrous attempt to catch a wild goose with no weapon or snare device. I'd given up early, choosing just to scout the area to see if there were any camps nearby, and then I'd found this little beauty. A charred pile of ash from a fire, and a medic kit that a tribute must have forgotten or discarded. Of course, being in the Games, I first checked for any traps or snares set to kill me, but found none. So I scampered over to the ashy remains of the fire, stuffed the kit in my bag, and sat on the floor to eat as I am now.

As far as the Games go, I consider myself lucky. I escaped the bloodbath no problem, even picking up a decent kit along the way. I found an excellent spot to sleep that stops me being detected, and to top it off, I found a medic's kit.

I smile to myself slightly as I angle my face up to the sky, where the cameras will no doubt be zooming in on me. I make a small promise to myself that, no matter what happens in this arena, I will try to smile, so that my mother will think that I am happy. I know my father will catch on to my true feelings, he always has done, but I don't let it bother me because I prefer it that way. He always knows when I am upset, and I always know when he needs help in his workshop. Everyone says it is obvious we are father and daughter.

I am snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of twigs snapping, somewhere close. I freeze on my seat, with one thought running through my head.

_Please be Zeph._

I add up the odds in my head, realising it probably won't be my ally. There are twelve other people out there who certainly _aren't _Zeph. They're out for my blood.  
>And suddenly, I am not irritated by the heat anymore, and I don't have thoughts of home running through my head. A new, strange version of Xyris Quentin is beginning to poise herself on the edge of her seat, slowly pulling her backpack over her head, eyes trained on the area of foliage where the sound came from with intense focus. Feet planted on the floor firmly. Leg muscles twitching in tension, ready to run at any second.<p>

And then, the District Six boy bursts through the trees, with a knife poised to throw, and all the bravery within me melts away, leaving me stuck in a half-crouched position in pure shock and terror. My hands clasp onto the straps of my kit tightly, as if doing that will somehow help me.  
>I close my eyes, not wanting to see the knife that will fly at my head any second, and all the thoughts of home come flooding back into my mind.<p>

But instead of feeling pain and dying, I hear a loud cracking noise, a cry of pain and a thud on the floor. My eyes fly open, my body already turning to run from the tribute that had killed him and will kill me next. But something catches my eye as my head whips around. A glint of light, sunshine hitting glass. I turn around, meeting those eyes I never wanted to stare into.

Zeph smiles sheepishly, a blood-splattered hammer in his hands.


	7. Chapter 7: Zeph

**THE PREMIERE OF THE HUNGER GAMES. I got to watch the film and everything XD**

**HAPPY HUNGER GAMES EVERYBODY! :D**

**(This chapter is the previous chapter from Zeph's POV)**

**Zeph's P.O.V**

It is around noon when Brooke wants to move on. She wakes late, her leg stiff and painful. I'd drifted off whilst on guard, and this resulted in me waking up, extremely startled, with a nip in the forearm by my angry Career ally. We were not exactly off to the best start, and so far, it hasn't got much better.

We walk through the forest, our tents and gear stuffed into our bags, weighting down our backs and making us tire easily. Well... just making me tire, if I'm honest. Brooke usually just takes a few strides in front and then turns, says something mildly motivating to me, then continues to walk. If she didn't have to keep stopping reluctantly because of her leg, she would have left me by now.

We make our way through the forest, Brooke using her weapons to hunt animals for food, and me figuring out a route that would lead us as far away from Careers as possible, and closer to where Xyris will most likely be hiding.  
>We pass a river, and Brooke removes her bandage to clean her wound. Luckily for her, there is no infection, and no nerve damage, but the cut is deep, and pain is evident on her face. I pass her another set of painkillers, but she turns them down with a defiant nod.<p>

I realise that the Sun is unnaturally strong today. You can see the waves of heat emanating from the leaves, and I realise that it must be down to the Gamemakers. It doesn't make sense really, since they will most likely want us to move closer to each other to ensure maximum killing, yet this heat just makes me want to sit in the cool river all day and not move a muscle. But a niggling thought in my mind of Xyris being ambushed by that dangerous girl from Six, or by the Careers, sticks in the back of my mind and keeps me moving. I have been given a task to do by my mentor, and since nobody likes me in the Capitol, I won't get any sponsors and therefore not a good chance of surviving. I want to help at least one person before I die.

I dip my glasses in the water to clean them, since the mud and grime from the previous day has begun to blur my vision. Brooke speaks out of the blue, and even though I can't see her, I know she is grinning.

"So why do you want to be allies with Three, anyway?"

I push my glasses up my nose with my thumb, reaching down to pick up my hammer. I can't tell her about my agreement with Priya before the Games, about making sure she wins. She'd either laugh me into oblivion or smite me with her trident on the spot.

"We're from the same District." Is all I can think of to reply.

"So?" She retorts with one eyebrow raised. She's still grinning.

"So..." I frown. "How come it's okay for District One, Two and Four to team up, but for any others it's the biggest _shock _in Panem?" I splash the water angrily with my weapon.

"You _like _her." She grins, pointing her trident at me playfully, leaning on a tree. My eyes narrow a bit, and I shake my head firmly. I like Xyris, she's a good person, but not in the way that Brooke is insinuating. Besides, even if I did like her, it'd be just another way for the Gamemakers to create drama and end up killing her. And the idea of two people being in love and fighting to the death at the same time is just plain _sickening_.

"Wrong on so many levels, Brooke." I turn and start walking again, picking up my bag as I go.

"Oh, so she's your sister or something?" Brooke replies, and I can hear that she is trying to catch up. I don't stop and wait for her.

"Nope," I say, "Just a person."

I hear a snicker from behind me, and we leave the conversation at that.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, we reach the edge of a cliff.<p>

"So, what do we do now Brains, absail?" She asks, holding her weapon vertically in the air and waving it about in an absent minded manner. I sense no sarcasm in her voice.

"Clearly not." I reply, looking down over the ledge and swallowing nervously. "Your leg isn't strong enough, and Xyris would never go down there anyway."

I hear my ally grumble something along the lines of '_You seem to know a lot about a girl you say you don't like' _but I ignore her because I don't want to get into that whole stupid situation again. I turn around to head back, my mind calculating another route, when I see movement in the trees. I freeze on the spot, and look around, suddenly alert.

Brooke clearly hasn't seen what I have, as she continues walking onwards. A second or so passes and she notices my position, and raises an eyebrow. She is about to make some kind of snide remark, but sudden realisation flashes across her face and she turns around to face the trees I am staring at.

She must have twigged onto what I am doing, because she lowers herself to a crouch, leaning slightly on her right leg to compensate for her injury on the opposite side. Her head whips to the right, and the grip she has on her trident shifts, so that it is extended from her arm. I stay still and follow her gaze, wondering how much training Brooke has had for things like this.

Suddenly, a figure rushes out from the trees, and I see a flash of the number '8' on her jacket. She carries a small backpack, and no weapon. Yet she runs towards us, a move that will inevitably lead to her death.  
>Brooke kills in a way that marks a true Career. She lunges forward on her good leg, throwing her weapon effortlessly. It buries itself in the girl's chest, knocking her backwards from the force of the throw. She rushes over to the trident and yanks it out, and I have to avert my eyes. The sound of the metal slicking back out of the wound is the only sound to be heard, then the loud jolt of her cannon firing blasts around the arena.<p>

Brooke breaks the silence first.

"She must have been following us," she nods, walking back over to where I stand. I try not to look down at the now-bloodied trident she grasps. "Trying to steal our food or whatever. Not sure why she ran at us though."

"Hmm." I reply, looking down at the ground. "Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe she wanted to die. She might have been starving, or knew she didn't have much of a chance surviving." It's happened a few times before in the past. A few years back, a young boy from Three got sent to the arena and gave up within a couple of days. He ran straight into the Career's camp on purpose, as he knew they would definitely kill him. It didn't go down well in the district, and his family still have their blinds drawn shut and doors locked to this day.

"What's the point in that?" Brooke asks, beginning to move away from the cliff area, "she could have at least _tried_."

I realise that I will never be able to explain to Brooke how I can empathize with this girl, as she is from Four and they are taught that winning the Games is one of the most important things to do in life. I can completely understand why this girl would give up, as I'm sure if my predicament was different, and I didn't have this thing I had to do for Priya, I would have done it, too.

We travel away from the cliff, as Brooke thinks that the Careers will be drawn in towards the site to see who else is around for them to kill. I realise that no other cannons have fired today; the only death of the day so far had been on Brooke's behalf, and this is weird.

"Why aren't the Careers killing anyone?" I think out loud, not expecting an answer. Brooke replies, however, and she is unsure why as well.

"They might not have found anyone yet." She suggests, whilst stepping over the body from Eight.

And so, again, we are left without conversation for a long while. Brooke hunts fish in a stream that we find running towards the cliff edge. We also find that if we follow the cliff's edge for a while, it slopes off into a hill, making it easier to climb down. To the opposite of the valley below is a large, steep mountain, ruling out entrance to it from that way. I survey the area, noticing how this hill is the only means of entering the valley below. I take Brooke down there carefully, and we decide to set up a camp here. I tell her that the fire would be concealed by the trees, and anyone viewing the valley from above would not be able to see us from the thick forestry. So, once the tent has been pitched, we cook and eat the fish and I prepare to find Xyris.

"Where are you going?" Brooke asks me, watching me pack my rucksack.

"I'm going to see if Xyris is nearby," I tell her. "You stay here and guard our stuff."

"Are you sure?" She asks whilst unwrapping her leg dressing, sounding genuinely concerned. "It's boiling hot, you might get dehydrated."

"I can always find water." I reply, smiling slightly. She knows I'm good at stuff like that.

"Well... Okay." She says slowly, re-dressing her wound. "Just keep a lookout for Careers, though." She looks poignantly at her leg. "And Six."

"I will."

And with that, I begin to search, clambering back up the hill.

* * *

><p>I like to think that I'm always sure of what I'm doing. But this search party thing is a lot harder than I anticipated. I search for a good half hour or so, checking every crevice, every cave, for signs of life. I take a guess at Xyris using a hiding tactic, so I check each and every possible spot for signs of her. At one point, I feel certain that I've found her, using footprints left in the soil that look like a girl's size of shoe. I follow these tracks for a while, feeling confident that it's her, until I hear voices a few steps in front of me.<p>

"District One, Two and Four." A delicate voice whispers. I stop still, like I did before with the girl from Eight, and peer through the bushes, trying to get a glimpse of the person I've found.

"So the Careers, then." A cocky boy replies, laughing slightly. I can just about see the side of his face, but nothing more.

The other voice hums in agreement. It must be a girl's voice, by the sounds of it. I crouch down as I hear moving coming towards me, losing sight of the boy.

"Once we take them out, the arena is ours." She replies, her voice thick with malice, and I hear an odd, unnatural noise. One I hear a lot back home, metal being scraped. A knife being sharpened.

"Then what?" The boy asks, stopping his footsteps. The girl's stops as well. I peer back through the leaves, seeing the back of a head of long hair and a dark green jacket.

"Then we take them all out. Starting with the weakest, they're easier." She replies. I can tell that she's the brains of the two of them. And she's clearly planned this all out before the Games. A clever plan, but one that leaves one small error.

Using that logic, Three would be the last district left for them to kill. Meaning me and Xyris, if I can find her, can prepare for them... and maybe stop them.

I can't say that it surprises me when I see the stamped '6' on the girl's jacket. My grip of the hammer I hold tightens a little, though. I didn't bring the sword, but the weapon I am most comfortable with. I'd go for them both right now, like Brooke would do, if I wasn't so intrigued.

The boy hits his face with his hand in a bizarre fashion, I hear it more than I see it.

"Ugh!" He exclaims, making the girl hush him. He adds, quietly, "I left the medic kit." The girl throws something at him, a rock maybe, and it hits him in the chest.

"Idiot!" She hisses. "You'll have to go back for it." She turns and marches away, calling behind to him "Meet me at the Cornucopia."

The boy shakes his head a little and turns, walking directly towards me. I dive to the side and conceal myself behind a tree, watching him lollop the way I had tracked them. I let him get a few steps in front before following him, determined to trap him and ask why he and his female tribute are out to kill everyone.

Sure, everyone hates the Careers, it's simply hierarchy at its worst. The higher tributes get all the weapons and food they need, while everyone else starves and is left defenceless. It's hardly fair, and under different circumstances I would be all out to electrically shock the Careers to death or something. But not like these. They're specifically targeting the Careers, and I want to know why.

I veer to the left slightly, figuring that this will be where his camp is. I reach the entrance to it before him, intending to run straight at him and tackle him to the floor or something.

But I'm in for a massive shock when I see Xyris sat on the floor, next to a burnt out fire, smiling and staring up into the sky.

_What's going on?  
>This is Xyris's camp?<br>Why would she make a camp here?  
>Does the boy know she is here?<br>Are they __**allies**__?_

The thoughts run through my head and I step out, dazed slightly. I'm about the call her name when I see the rush of dark green, the glint of metal, the grin on the face of the boy from Six as he sprints to kill her –

My body reacts before I have time to think. I run forward, hammer swung back ready to attack. The boy never even sees me coming. He stops, preparing to throw the knife, and I see Xyris's eyes close, frozen to the spot, her face the picture of fear.  
>She thinks she's going to die.<p>

I swing the hammer around to the side of the boy's head. The whistling of the weapon is the only indication to him of what is about to happen, but it's too late for him anyway. The impact of bone meeting metal sends shockwaves up my arm, but the force is enough to produce a loud cracking noise, signalling the breaking of his skull. I hear the echo of the attack rebounding across the clearing, and feel the spatter of warm blood across my arm. The boy releases a small cry of pain, and all I can think is '_Not so cocky now, are you?' _

But then the boy falls to the ground and I see Xyris turning to run away. Does she think I'm going to kill her, too? But then she stops, whipping her head around and meeting my stare. And all of a sudden I feel very guilty for killing this boy, because the look on her face is one of terror.

I try and smile at her, but she doesn't look very convinced.


	8. Chapter 8: Xyris

**I wrote this whilst camping in Wales. I hope you like it xD If you have any suggestions or want to suggest a tribute idea or anything, then feel free! **

**Xyris's P.O.V**

Zeph approaches me slowly, lowering the bloodied hammer he used to end Six's life. He's still smiling, but the whole image reminds me of an animal stalking its prey. I step back slightly. The Zeph from before the Games wouldn't have killed anyone before trying to figure something out _logically. _

A flicker of something crosses his face... Hurt? Remorse?

Then the boy's cannon fires and my fellow tribute jumps sky-high, shock painting his face a blush of deep red. I can't help but laugh, which makes him grin, less sheepishly than before.

"So I guess you found me after all." I say.

"Actually, I wasn't expecting to find you here..." He trails off, looking around the site and shaking his head. "Did you _really _make a camp here?"

"Oh, no!" I reply hastily. "This isn't _my _camp! I came across it by chance. Found a medical kit, too." I hold up the pack and Zeph's eyes widen slightly. "What?" I say, walking towards him cautiously.

"Xyris..." He asks slowly. "Do you know whose camp this is?"

I frown slightly, wondering what he means.  
>"No..."<br>Then it hits me.  
>"Oh, crap, this isn't a <em>Career<em> camp, is it?" I grab my backpack, slinging it around my shoulder, ready to bolt in case they return.

"Worse than Careers." Zeph replies, looking out for something in the trees. I nervously run my hands through my hair.

"I thought it had been abandoned... A cannon fired nearby this morning and I thought-"

"No," Zeph answers quickly, "That was Brooke. You'll meet her. But we need to go." He begins to walk away. "I'll explain everything when we get back to the camp."  
>We walk out of the clearing in silence. Zeph takes me through a winding route of the forest, and I am left to my thoughts.<br>Who is 'Brooke'? Did Zeph make an _alliance_? And _they_ killed the person whose cannon woke me up. Why are they killing people? They're acting like...

Like...

We reach what must be Zeph's camp. And that's when I see her. Sat next to a small tent, spinning a trident absentmindedly in her hands. The number '4' printed on the back of her jacket.

I realise now why Zeph is acting so much like a Career.

* * *

><p>It takes a while for me to take in everything Zeph says.<br>That he unwillingly joined the Career pack, and got to stock up on stuff from the Cornucopia. That Brooke had been injured badly by the female tribute from Six at the bloodbath, and they had both left the Careers in the mountains. I feel slightly panicked when he tells me that the camp I discovered belonged to the two tributes from Six, who had attacked a Career, and they were just leaving when I came across the clearing. Apparently, they'd forgotten their first aid kit, and the boy was going back to retrieve it when he found me.

"He would have killed you." Zeph adds, sitting down next to me on a tree log.

"It's weird." Brooke says, "Six don't usually produce such..." She winces at the bandages wrapped around her left leg, and for a second I feel a bit sorry for her.  
>But then I remember who she is, a Career, who would probably inflict the same wound or worse on us given the chance. Zeph doesn't see this though, and tries to help her clean the wound with water from a bottle he retrieves from the tent.<br>I sit and observe the two, seeing how reluctant Brooke is to accept help. She _insists_ on doing it herself. I guess it makes sense, really. If Brooke wants to kill us, then she won't want to owe us any favours.

"Oh!" Zeph suddenly exclaims, jumping up as if he's been electrically shocked. "I almost forgot." He looks down at me, grinning slightly, and reaches into the tent.  
>When he produces a pristine sword, I can't help but gasp a little.<p>

"For you." He says warmly, offering me handle.

"...Why?" I reply. "How...?"

"Found it at the Cornucopia, remember?" He replies. "I saw it and thought of you." I take the weapon slowly, feeling how heavy it is.

Brooke pipes up;  
>"Wait, that was for her?" And Zeph nods. I remember telling him about my private training session in the Capitol, and I'm surprised and a little pleased that he remembers. "You can use a sword?"Brooke asks me, cocking her head to one side, like a dog does when they see something curious.<p>

"A bit." I lie. Of course, I'd never had _any _experience with a _any _weapons until I was reaped, but she doesn't know that.

"Cool." She returns to her work, weaving a net of some kind out of grass blades. I look towards Zeph, and he looks away when our eyes meet. I remember before we went into the arena, when I refused to make eye contact with him. The tables sure have turned now.

I decide to survey the area around the camp, and Zeph agrees, assuring me it's safe. I travel alone, with the sword tucked through my belt. It feels heavy and gives me a bit of a limp at first, but I'm thankful that I don't have to travel un-armed anymore. And with news of this District Six girl being out to kill everyone, I could use some protection just in case.

The camp is cleverly placed, almost as good as my old tree hideout. It is down a steep hill, and concealed by masses of trees, so that anyone viewing the valley from above would not be able to spot a thing.  
>I climb the hill, with a water bottle that has been topped up by Zeph. I smile to myself. Another perk of allying with a genius is that he can find water sources easily, and we are currently camping next to a spring that has been formed by the valley.<p>

Well, by the Gamemakers, but whatever.

Once I reach the top of the hill, I check for nearby tributes. When I'm that no one is nearby, I look over the landscape. The opposing wall of land is a steep mountain, which rules out any assault from that side. Further down to the right of me, the hill forms into a cliff, leaving only this hill area as the only means of entering the valley area. This makes guarding the camp a lot easier.

I take a swig of water and begin to make my way back down the hill. The arena is pretty this year. There have been years in the past when the stage for the Games have been barren wastelands, or plain grassy meadows, but this year the arena thrives with beautiful flowers, and deep green forestry.  
>I delve further down and find a sparkling stream, the water crystal clear and shimmering in the sunshine. A part of me wonders what the catch is, though, maybe the stream is poisoned or something, so I don't touch it. I'll leave it to Zeph to find safe stuff.<p>

I'm about halfway down the hill, when I spot a bird perched on a branch. A 'mockingjay', I think it's called. Some kind of muttation-gone-wrong, or so the teachers from Three tell us. I've read about them before, but since Three is so industrialised I've never come across one in real life. I do know, however, that they can mimic song patterns, so I take in a breath and-

_**BOOM!**_

The cannon fire makes the bird flit away, along with others whose wings I hear frantically beating. It takes me a few moments to pinpoint the sound of the cannon coming from somewhere down the hill, and the fear can barely resonate before-

_**BOOM! **_

The second cannon makes me jump more than the first.

Brooke.

_Zeph._

I can feel myself running, my mind going into autopilot. If I can catch whoever killed them fast enough, I can stop them.

The nightmares from the previous night float around my mind, distorting any sense of composure within me. Zeph's face contorting in pain and fear.

I'm at the bottom of the hill now, thrashing through the greenery with my nails, desperately trying to find the camp. I eventually break through the trees into the camp, expecting to find carnage but instead... Silence.

I pull out my sword slowly, holding it up defensively in my hand. I reach the tent and yank open the flimsy door; expecting to see the killer inside looting our goods.

Nothing.

I hear footsteps from the opposite side of the camp, and begin to follow them, leaping over the log I'd sat on before and surprising myself my not tripping up.  
>The footsteps get closer and I sprint after them, sword held in my hand. A part of my mind realises I left my water bottle in the tent, but I ignore the urge to turn back as I press forward.<p>

A figure suddenly impacts me from the side, and I let out some form of angry yelp, flipping over and preparing to attack the assailant.

But it's Zeph.

And he looks about a shocked as I am.

He reaches forward and lifts me off the floor, holding onto my shoulders and staring right into my eyes.

"Xyris!" He exclaims, his voice relieved, "I thought you'd died."

"What?" I ask, confused at his logic. "The cannon came from the valley. Where you were. I was on the hill-" I am cut off by a sob from the back of my throat, which annoys me. I always end up crying when I get too stressed.

"I-I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Zeph asks uneasily, unsure of what to do. He awkwardly pulls me into a hug. I don't wrap my arms around him or anything, which would be weird, but instead I say,

"No. I thought you'd died. I-It came from down here..."

Brooke appears from when Zeph tackled me from, limping, with her trident held expertly from her arm.

"It must have been from the mountains," She says firmly. "Where the Careers went."  
>Zeph is still latched onto me, and I have to un hook myself from him to think.<p>

Yes, if a cannon fired from behind the mountain, I'd think it was from the valley since I was so high up.

"Brooke and I went to find food," Zeph carefully recalls, "We went East. You went South, up the hill. So when we heard the cannon, we assumed it was from our camp, when in fact it was North. I thought you'd come back and they'd found you..."

"...Then we heard the second cannon," Brooke adds, seeing that Zeph has gone into his focused state of mind, like before the Games. "We thought you'd taken someone down with you." She smiles, and points at my sword, which I still haven't put away.

We walk back to the camp, slowly to compensate for Brooke's leg. We realise that it is starting to get dark, and decide to have something to eat.  
>Zeph produces some crackers, and Brooke prepares some berries that she assures us are safe. Zeph isn't convinced, and neither am I, so we make her eat some just to make sure.<p>

"You really don't trust me, do you?" She laughs, chomping down on the berries. "See? Not _deeeaaaadd_." She opens her mouth to prove the berries have been eaten, and Zeph nods in approval.

"I owe you anyway, Brains." Brooke adds, pointing a cracker at Zeph. He looks at me, cringing slightly at the nickname, and I shake my head whilst giggling. How bizarre. A Career _owing _somebody from _Three._  
>After we've eaten, we assign duties for the night. Brooke insists on guarding the tent.<br>"Your leg-" Zeph begins, but Brooke cuts him off, retorting about how he wouldn't be able to hurt a fly. I'm just about to pipe up about the boy from Six, when she turns to me.

"You should sleep in the tent," She asserts. "What with Zeph _tackling _you, I think you deserve a lie down."

"I'm fine." I reply, even though my arm aches a little. "Zeph didn't hurt me. But thank you." She smiles, and spins the trident in her hand.  
>"I'm guarding." She grins at Zeph, to which he rolls his eyes.<p>

When darkness falls, we all sit on the log and look to the sky, to see who died today.

I think it's fair to say that we all gasp in horror and shock, as the first face to appear is the _boy from One._  
>Brooke even gives a confused 'What?' when the next face is the <em>girl from Two.<br>_The boy from Six and the girl from Eight, whom Brooke must have killed, flash across the sky, then darkness. There is a moment of pure, shocked silence, when all that can be heard is the occasional sounds of wildlife across the arena.

"Six."

I look to Zeph, confused as to what he means. But then Brooke moves her wounded leg slightly and it dawns on me.

"You think she killed them both?" I ask.

"Yes." Is all he says, leaning forward in thought.

"It's a good job we left when we had the chance!" Brooke says, still staring up at the sky in shock.  
>He doesn't reply, and instead turns to enter the tent. I look at Brooke and ask,<p>

"Are you okay?"

She shrugs and looks down at the floor.

"Sol and Kellie were alright." She replies, a little sadly. "And they were lethal too. It's weird." I nod, and add,  
>"Six must have had training like you guys."<br>"Yeah. She's probably the reason they aren't out hunting yet."  
>That feels somewhat chilling. I look down at Brooke's leg, seeing how bad it is. She spots me staring and says,<br>"I know what you're thinking. That I'm only here because I'm injured. And if you'd asked me this morning, I would have agreed. But Zeph is alright, y'know, better than the Careers. He's smart, like you, and doesn't give up."  
>I'm not sure why she's telling me this, but I nod. Yes, Zeph is a good ally.<br>"Um, I'm going to go in now, Brooke." I say, standing up.  
>"Oh, okay. G'night." She looks down and begins to weave grass again.<p>

The air is humid tonight, making the small tent stuffy and uncomfortable. Zeph lies on his back, with his hands interlocked and resting on his front. He stares up at the roof of the tent and stays un-moving; reminding me of a corpse at those weird funerals we have in Three, where you have to place a rose on an open-casket. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his chest, or the occasional blink, he'd look pretty dead.

The dim light from outside casts eerie shadows across his face, and make his dark pupils look black. I sit down next to him, staring at his odd, spiky hair. He seems to sense my stare on him and whispers,

"Go to sleep, Xyris."

I curl up into a ball, facing away from him. And all of a sudden I'm very thankful to have him here in the arena with me, as I'm sure that without him I'd be dead by now.

I whisper, "Thank you for saving me."

He doesn't reply.


	9. Chapter 9: Zeph

**So I figured out the fate of all of the tributes today. No, I'm not telling you. You'll have to keep reading xD Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, your support and advice means a lot to me  
>This is a lovely piece of artwork made by ~BertMel - www. deviantart download 299492127 /xyris _quentin_by_bertmel -d4yb5lr. png (take out all the spaces!)  
>Also, can I just give a thank you to Tom, my lovely boyfriend, for putting up with me pestering you to read this story 3<br>I'm also sorry that this chapter took so long! I've had lots of exams, but I've finished school now so it's all good :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Zeph's P.O.V<strong>

I wake up early, dawn only just breaking through the horizon, my teeth chattering ever so slightly. I'm in the same position I was laid in whilst thinking about things last night. Things to do with the Games, and my fate within them. I realise that my hands are quite numb, which makes un-clasping them from one another difficult. It's apparent to me that the weather is a lot cooler today, more so than the thick humidity we all endured yesterday. Not exactly _cold,_ like the heavily snowed-in winters we get in Three, but cool, like the Gamemakers are trying to climatize us to the cold weather that will most likely ensue. I've had an inkling that the weather is purposefully being changed from day to day, every year the arena has a certain 'quirk' and I guess this is ours.

I look over at Xyris, checking to see if she wasn't murdered during the night. I can practically _hear _Priya's approval, the way she will be nodding at the cameras in appreciation. Those very cameras developed in our hometown, which produce detailed thermal images and can see through the thin tent canapé.  
>It's one of the many things that infuriate me about Panem. The way the Capitol takes what we labour for and use it against us. Just to rub it in. Just to say, <em>'Look at how powerful we are. How we can take your hard work and use it against you.' <em>It's what the rebels fought against. And they didn't win because of the resources the Capitol had, made in the _districts _no doubt, that overpowered them.

Movement from outside knocks me out of my anti-Capitol thoughts, and I carefully exit the tent, being careful not to disturb the sleeping tribute who is still fast asleep. I am met with a slight, cool breeze, along with Brooke who has woken up and began to pack our belongings. As I step out into the daylight, she nods my way and mumbles a 'good morning' before continuing to hobble around the camp. I notice her face, how pale it is from normal, a mask trying to conceal the pain of her leg. She must have gotten worse during the night.

"...Brooke?" I ask, not wanting to upset her. "I don't think you should be moving about."

"S-since when did you become a doctor?" She retorts, continuing to limp around.

"You're leg is never going to heal if-"

"Oh, give it a _rest_!" Brooke snaps, her mask evidently cracking. But she doesn't look angry, like I expect. Instead she looks upset, and for the first time like the young girl she is.

She slumps down on the ground, tears forming in her eyes, and clutches her leg.

"I'm going to die." She whispers. I don't want to say _'No, you won't' _for pretty obvious reasons, so instead I sit down next to her and awkwardly pat her on the shoulder. I then attempt to change the subject.

"District 4 must get a lot of sunshine," I begin, trying to sound as natural as possible, "You all look sun-tanned."

"We do." She smiles slightly, running blades of grass through her fingers. "We have to spend a lot of time outside. It's cold out at sea, though."

"You've been out at sea?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Only once or twice. The crabbing ship my mother works on was short of crew members... so I tagged along..." She trails off, looking down at the floor intensely, and my first instinct is not to pry any further as she must miss home.

"It's not very sunny in Three." I begin, trying to lighten the mood and talking as cheerily as possible. "Not like yesterday, anyway. It's mostly cool, like today. Bit boring, really. But in the winter we get tonnes of snow... Which usually makes the factories close for the day so we don't have to work..." I then trail off too, remembering how relieved I'd feel when I didn't have to slam metal into shape all day. I'd rush home and sit in my workshop, alone as usual since my parents are never around, happily building computer parts for the rest of the day.

"Why are you doing this? " Brooke asks suddenly, her voice pained.

"Doing what?"

"All of _this. _Fixing my leg up, taking me with you, and finding Xyris. Now you're trying to make me feel better. It's like you-"She is cut off by a clattering noise coming from behind us. I spin around, reaching for my hammer but finding empty space. I panic for a second, until Brooke gasps in delight.

"A parachute!" She grins, pointing at the package that now lay at the bottom of a dis-assembled pile of metal water bottles. I walk over to the gift, smiling at how whoever sent this purposefully interrupted our awkward chat. I unclip the pod from the parachute and take it over to Brooke, who seems eager to be the one to open it. She quickly pulls the lid away to reveal a small tub laid inside.

"It can't be food," She muses, turning the container around in her hands, "it's too small." She opens it up and her nose wrinkles. "Eugh! Smells awful." I peer into the pot to study the contents; a thick, gloopy gel that has the strong, sterile odour of bleach. I ponder what it could be for, but it doesn't take me long.

"Your leg." I say, passing her the container. "It's medicine." Brooke gasps like she did before and sticks her finger into the tub, unravelling her bandaging hastily. She rubs the gel onto her wound and sighs in relief.

"I take it that makes you feel better?" I ask.

"Yep." She smiles, reaching in to add more to her leg. "It's stopping it from hurting."

"Good." I reply. "Might even heal it." She doesn't reply, so we are left awkwardly sat beside each other, me unmoving and Brooke sighing as the pain she's no doubt been trying to hide since the Bloodbath is relieved.

A few minutes pass, and Xyris emerges from the tent, telling us that she didn't expect us to be awake so early.  
>"I'm an early riser," I tell her, passing her some food. "It's from having to work in the factory, getting up at the crack of dawn." She nods, and sits down on the floor to eat.<br>A few moments later, she glances over at Brooke, and her eyes widen ever so slightly as she spots the parachute pod laid at her side.  
>"You got a parachute?" Xyris asks, shocked.<br>"Yeah," Brooke gleams, showing Xyris the medicine gel. "Even though I thought my mentor would be favouring Kai over me."

I want to tell her that her mentor probably didn't send her the medicine, but I can't bring myself to it. I figured out pretty quick that it was in fact Priya who sent the medicine. It isn't a coincidence that the parachute landed in a way that interrupted mine and Brooke's conversation, just before Brooke was going to reveal to Panem that I am not intending to win the Games. It also isn't a coincidence that the gift itself has left Brooke so happy that she has forgotten all about our chat. Priya did not send this medicine to help Brooke, she has probably lived through enough Games to know that the ones that are badly injured at the Bloodbath usually don't survive, and that Careers that do not stay with the other Careers usually bite off more than they can chew and end up getting killed anyway. No, our mentor, bizarre though it is, has done this to help _me, _because if the Game-Makers were to find out about our... strategy, they would find a way to kill me off anyway, so that I wouldn't be able to help Xyris survive.  
>Whoa. I guess I misjudged Priya. She's very cunning, and I can see now why she won the Games.<p>

"ZEPH!" Brooke and Xyris knock me out of my deep thought, making me literally jump.  
>"Yes?"<br>"Snap out of it Brains, we need to go." Brooke instructs, handing me a rucksack that they had probably packed when I was thinking. I look around, and the whole camp has been disassembled.  
>We begin to explore more of the woods, and it is a much more efficient way to move now that Brooke can walk properly. Although she limps a little, she can maintain a quick pace like me and Xyris, and her footing is now almost silent. We travel across the forest, uncertain of where we are going but definitely certain that we need to keep moving. A cannon fires from far away as we venture through the thick greenery, and Brooke comes to the conclusion that the Careers are back in business.<br>"That makes sense." Xyris nods, her eyes darting around slightly. I notice that her right hand stays close to the hilt of her sword, as if she anticipates an attack at any minute. She is truly on edge. At around midday we find a river, with tall reeds growing on the banking and the delicate smell of wild garlic lingering in the air. Brooke immediately wades into the shallow water, and begins to hunt for fish, leaving me and Xyris sitting next to each other on the lush green incline, where countless of little flowers are peppered around our feet.

I am about to break the silence between the two of us, when I notice in the corner of my eye that Xyris has picked a small flower from the grass and is studying it intensely, running her fingers around the petals of the small white plant.  
>"It's called a Daisy." I tell her. "I've read about them before, in a book." My mind immediately casts back to a library we have in Three. There are technically three libraries in the whole District, the first and biggest one being more of an industrial archives facility than a real library, which we frequently visited with school, even though the place never changed. It has many books on technology and machinery, but I always felt that the atmosphere was too tense there, as if the people working on the desks were saying <em>'Why don't you stop reading books on machinery and start actually making it, like the Capitol expects you to?' <em>I could never feel comfortable reading there, so I avoided it as much as I could.  
>The second library is just as pristine as the first, but it is much smaller. The only books it ever has are about the Capitol, the history of Panem (as the Capitol would want you to know it) or the notable people of the Capitol such as information books about the Presidents, and corny biographies about Caesar Flickerman. I was never interested in the Capitol beyond what we were taught in school, so I rarely visited the place. However, I can always remember that library being very stuffy, even in the Winter when all the other houses were ice cold. Those were the worst times, as Peacekeepers would usually end up beating people out of the building, who had only come there for warmth. And if you were passing by and the Peacekeepers didn't like you, they would chase you down, too.<br>The third library we have is the one that the daisies have reminded me of. It is by far the most run down of the three we have, residing in a very dilapidated warehouse with crumbly walls, but it is my favourite. Not many people know about it, because of the types of books that they have, and it would get burned to the ground if the Peacekeepers were to come across it so nobody ever speaks of it in public. Some of the books they have there are very old, from before the Rebellion when the Districts had a lot more resources. Some really ancient books, the ones that are very hard to read due to faded lettering and ripped pages, are said to be from the world before Panem, but they are mostly about the different beliefs that the people of that time had so not many people read them. It is the books on survival that the people find the most valuable, and if the library should choose to sell their goods then those books would go for the highest price. But the woman in charge, Neona, an old soul with Rebellion scars down both her arms, is really kind and wise, and says that people have kept these books hidden in attics and basements for so long, the young generation should have the right to enjoy them too.  
>It is a book on botany that taught me about daisies, and that is why I could recognize the dainty flower held in Xyris' hand so easily.<p>

"We don't get these back home." She muses, twirling it around in her hand. I am about to pick another type of flower, one they call a Dandelion that is just next to her left hand, when a snowflake lands on Xyris' nose and it makes her jump. It begins to snow lightly, the snowflakes falling gracefully. They are the large blob types, ones that you can catch in your hand and it takes a while to melt away. I look over at Brooke, who is enthralled in the weather that must be new to her, coming from a warm seaside part of Panem. She steps slowly out of the water and angles her head up at the sky, grinning in wonder. And in those few, short moments, we all share a common happiness, like when you run downstairs to see a sack full of District winnings the year a Victor is crowned from your District.  
>But of course, the moment passes, as this is the Hunger Games and the snow begins to get thicker and thicker, quickly forming a snowy carpet on the floor. I stand up and turn to Xyris, who is looking at me as if she was about to say something.<br>"We should find somewhere sheltered." Brooke says, picking up her rucksack. We all retrieve our packs and hastily leave the beautiful river.

Snow presents a serious problem. Not only does it fall so thick that it is hard to see as far as your hand, but it makes covering your tracks difficult. We blunder through the forest blindly, and it occurs to me that we should be freezing to death in weather like this. But in fact, the temperature doesn't seemed to have changed much since this morning. Which means that the Game-makers don't want to freeze us all, but want to restrict our sight. The question being, why?

We are trekking though a very bushy part of the forest when Xyris strikes up a conversation.  
>"So tell me more about daisies." I look to her face and see her smile, looking up at me with bright eyes. She usually breaks away eye contact quickly, but in this instance she doesn't look away.<br>"Nothing much else to say, really." I mumble, whipping my head back forward and away from her gaze. "They grow wild. Not as much as they used to before the Dark Days. I've read that there used to be entire meadows full of them before Panem was created."  
>"They're quite pretty." Xyris notes, and the conversation fizzles out.<p>

Two cannons fire at almost the same time, from close nearby, startling us. Before I can even come up with a theory as to why they were so close together, I feel a tremor in the ground, which emits a low, rumbling sound. I look up at my two allies; Brooke, who has her trident poised and ready to attack, and Xyris, who is looking about in confusion. Our eyes meet for a second or so, light blue-grey and saturated with fear, neither one of us wanting to turn away, like we are waiting for the other person to explain what is happening.

Then, a giant leopard crashes its way through the trees to our left, and we all rush together in terrified synchronization. We sprint through the trees, practically vaulting over obstacles on the ground and weaving through leaves and twigs that claw at our clothes and hair.  
>Brooke shouts orders at us like 'LEFT!' or 'OVER HERE!' and we oblige because she's probably been trained for stuff like this countless times.<br>I whip my head behind us quickly to check if the creature is close, and I see its form barging through the forestry, bending tree trunks with its brute strength. Its teeth and snapping muzzle are caked in blood, a stark contrast of deep red to its pale white fur. Its eyes are entirely black with tiny white pupils, making it obvious that this creature is not natural, it's a Capitol designed muttation.

Brooke takes the lead and begins to climb a large deposit of rocks, and Xyris and I follow. At first, Xyris seems to hang back, like she wants me to start climbing first, but I pick her up and practically throw her at the wall of rock, urging her forwards. When she is a decent amount above me I begin to scramble up after her, hearing the mutt's roars getting closer and louder. It sounds like it's screeching, and I can hear the snapping sound of its jaws opening and shutting, which tells me that the beast is getting very close.  
>Just as I am reaching the top of the rocks, I feel a slashing claw drag away the rock under my right foot, and for a terrifying second I think that I am going to fall to my death. But out of pure luck I manage to cling onto the top of the rocks and swing my body upwards, just as the mutt's teeth snap close to where my foot had originally been. I am left lying face down on the ice cold snow, panting heavily out of fear and exhaustion from running. The mutt is still screeching for a couple of minutes after we climb out of his reach, but he catches the scent of something else and darts away towards it.<p>

The snow feels like daggers cutting into the side of my face, so I sit up and rub the numbness out of my cheek. I feel someone sit down next to me and I look up, seeing Xyris' concerned face staring down at me. She is just about to speak, but I know what she is going to say already.  
>"You had to climb up first... because you can't climb... as fast..." I say between breaths. I don't know if this is a true fact or not, but I can't exactly tell her the real reason why.<p>

We sit on top of the rocks for a short while, catching our breath. None of us talk to each other, but I keep on glancing over at Xyris to make sure that she isn't in shock or anything. Another cannon fire blasts out from the area that the mutt ran towards, and I calculate how many people had died today. Four. That means that there is now 8 of us remaining, 3 of them being Careers (that aren't Brooke). There is one person out there, the boy from Twelve, who we don't know the strategy of. The Careers are most likely going to hunt for him, and then for us, but assuming that they don't know of the girl from Six's plans, they could be the first ones to go. We're kind of stuck in the middle, trying to keep away from it all, I guess. A thought crosses my mind, about Brooke turning on us and killing us to join the Careers again, and I realise that it's actually rather dangerous staying with her. But she has so much knowledge of survival that we can't lose her at this point of the Game, so I'm torn between staying with her or not.

I decide that I will wait until tomorrow and see what happens then.


End file.
